Quadruple Duty

“Time for bed now,” I told him. When he smirked suggestively, I added: “Alone.”

Kyle sighed in disappointment, much the same way I did after the door had closed only a minute ago. “Alright,” he said, pointing. “You know where we are. If you need anything…”

“Yes yes,” I chuckled. “I’ll come get you.”

“You can come get me anyway,” he grinned. “Even if you don’t need anything.”

“Got it.”

“And just in case you—”

I rolled my eyes over-dramatically. It stopped him.

“Okay, okay,” he said, putting his hands up with an adorable chuckle. “Goodnight Sammara.”

“’Night,” I said, blowing him a final kiss as I closed the door.

The latch clicked. Silence descended. I slid beneath the silky sheets again, staring up at the ceiling with my hands folded behind my head.

Four boyfriends.

Was it going to be like this every night? Being constantly attended to? My bedroom… more like Grand Central Station?

“I guess a girl could have worse problems,” I yawned, stretching before sleep took me.

Fifteen

RYAN

She was in the kitchen before even I was, drinking coffee as the sun came up. Curled up with some pillows near the big picture window overlooking the lake.

“Morning Ryan,” Sammara said cheerily. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” I lied, reaching for the coffee pot. “Always do.”

The lie was stupid and unnecessary. I didn’t even know why I’d said it. I was supposed to be giving this girl a chance, making her feel welcome. And here I was already lying to her.

She let out a low whistle. “Must be nice.”

It wasn’t nice, actually. My sleep was broken, had been for years. Constantly getting up, my heart racing, not really being able to pinpoint the source of my strange, seemingly self-imposed anxiety.

Anxiety. It was word I especially hated. A weak word. A word that drove me absolutely nuts whenever it was used, especially by the Division Surgeon, whose name was on every unopened prescription bottle at the bottom of my sock drawer.

Silently I vowed to change gears.

“What’s that?” I asked.

She was staring down at a notepad that rested against one trim thigh. Her mouth, which was sexy to begin with, looked especially so while chewing a pencil.

“It’s my list,” smiled Sammara. “I always make a list.”

“Of?”

“Of stuff I need to do today.”

I poured a steaming mug and brought the brown liquid to my lips. It was good.

Exceptionally good.